


Rain

by Severina



Series: Alphabet Soup [18]
Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John stares down at the cell phone as the message ends, his brow furrowed. Immortal Defender, Skynet… the kid talks in fuckin' riddles. And who in the hell is Mickey?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt "R" at LJ's 1_million_words A to Z challenge.
> 
> * * *

_"Hey, John. Hi. So okay, so you know how I said we'd go to check out that new Mexican place tonight? I'm really sorry but I just found out – there was a surprise announcement – hold on, I said I'd be right there! Sorry, John. It's Mickey freaking out – Fuck! Calm down! Give me two fucking seconds okay? – Okay. John. Sorry. So Immortal Defender Three is being released and it's gonna be massive, so I've gotta join the line at Skynet. I'll call you tomorrow and we'll – fuck Mick, don't—"_

John stares down at the cell phone as the message ends, his brow furrowed. Immortal Defender, Skynet… the kid talks in fuckin' riddles. And who in the hell is Mickey?

He's tempted to go back inside and see if someone on the floor can decipher this shit for him – maybe the new kid, Munroe, with the dyed purple hair and the earring – but the elevator's out again and he doesn't really feel like trudging up five goddamn flights of stairs. At least that's what he tells himself as he raises the collar on his jacket, tucks his phone into his pocket and steps away from the overhang. Has nothing at all to do with one too many 'old fogey' jokes from the guys at the precinct, most of whom were still shitting their diapers when he got his first collar.

The scowl on his face matches the grey clouds overhead, and he's only halfway to his car when the rain starts. A couple of drops at first, the big ferocious kind that splatter into silver dollar sized shapes on the sidewalk. Three more steps and they're coming down like a house on fire; ten more and the skies _really_ open up. The leather protects him a little but his feet are soaked and the rain is dripping down his head and into his eyes, and by the time he finally unlocks the car and slides into the front seat he's in a grumpier mood than he was after getting Matt's cryptic message.

He was really fuckin' looking forward to Papagayo's. 

Okay, maybe he was looking forward to seeing Matt, too. 

John leans back in his seat, closes his eyes and listens to the rain drum on the roof. It's only been three weeks since he and Matt started… whatever it is they started. Matt calls it dating, but… fuck, Matt's a kid. Twenty-somethings date. But he's fifty-three. Isn't that a little old to be 'dating'? Of course the other option was 'fucking' and what they are doing is definitely more than just getting a little between the sheets when the mood hits. 

He starts when his phone rings, blinks his eyes open to see that the little Subaru that was parked in front of him is long gone. He has no idea how long he sat there, letting the rain lull him into a stupor, and that's fucking ridiculous. He's in his early fifties, he's not ancient. What's next, falling asleep in front of the tube? Socks with sandals?

The phone rings again and he fumbles it out of his pocket, thinking _Matt_. Thinking _changed his mind, the little shit_. He flips it open without looking at the display, barks out a "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Lucy says. 

"Oh," John says. Tries not to let the disappointment colour his voice. "Hi, honey."

"Wow, don't let the excitement bowl you over there, Dad," Lucy says dryly. Clearly he failed in the not disappointing his kid department. Again. No surprise there. 

"Sorry, kiddo," he tries again. "What's up?"

"No, I'm sorry to bug you," she answers. "I know you've got your date with Matt tonight—"

John wrinkles his nose. There it is again. 'Date'. But what else are they supposed to call it? Food and fucking? Conversation followed by a roll in the hay? It's too fucking confusing, and he never should have started it. He should probably end it before it becomes… something more than it is already. Except every time he decides to do just that Matt makes him laugh so hard that he snorts beer out of his nose. Or says something so profound that he's still thinking about it three days later. Or touches him in that way that makes his stomach clench and his heart pound and he feels like he's twenty-five again.

"John!" Lucy yells. "Are you listening to me?"

And now he's drifting off in the middle of conversations. Jesus Christ. He might as well reserve his spot at the old folks home if this keeps up. 

"Sorry, Luce," he says again. Seems like he's always apologizing to his kids for something or other. "I'm not going out tonight. Matt cancelled."

"Uh oh," Lucy says. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Nah," John answers. At least he hopes not. He hadn't even considered that maybe Matt was making something up to get out of seeing him. He thinks back over the cell phone message, and… "No," he says again. "He said something came up. Unexpectedly."

"Dad…"

"It's no big deal," John says quickly. "He's… doing a line at Skynet for… Immortal Distender?"

Lucy snorts. "What a geek."

John raises a brow and shifts the phone to his right ear. Watches the rain sluice down his windshield. "That makes sense to you?"

"It's a video game, Dad. Immortal _Defender_. They announced a surprise launch of the latest game for tomorrow, so all the gaming stores open at midnight."

"Why—"

"As soon as the date changes, they can sell it," Lucy interrupts. "Which means that all the crazy dorks like your boyfriend line up outside of the store all day so that when the clock strikes twelve they can be the first to get the game in their hot little hands."

John's so impressed by the explanation that he doesn't even mind that Lucy used the 'b' word. "That's…"

"Moronic? Ridiculous? Insane?" Lucy provides.

"Took the words right outta my mouth, Luce," he says.

"People do it for movies and books too," Lucy says. She sniffs. "I've got better things to do with my time. And one of those things is working on an optional paper for my Women's Lit class. That is if you can lend me your credit card so I can buy the source material for my research?"

John considers briefly giving her the ol' 'money don't grow on trees' lecture, but it's not like she's asking him for new boots – yeah, he might still hold a bit of a grudge over that hissy fit she had when she was seventeen and she _had_ to have some godawful new style that _everybody_ was wearing, even though her old boots were perfectly fine. Three hundred dollars for boots, and the things looked like the damn fifty buck mukluks he wore when he went fishing with Kowalski and the guys. 

"Dad!"

John blinks, lifts a finger to rub between his eyes. Yeah, definitely ready for the old folks home. He hears Deerview Crossing is nice. Could spend his time watching the animals out the window in between drooling and eating pablum.

"I'm here," he says. "You know the numbers on the card, Lucy. Help yourself."

"Thanks," she answers. There's a pause, and he can practically hear her brain churning. "You're not… worried about Matt, are you? 'Cause Dad, it's just a geek thing. It's not a reflection on you or the quality of time you spend together, or on your relationship at all."

"You takin' Women's Lit or Psychology?"

"Both, actually," she says smugly. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, Luce."

He flips the phone closed and cups it in his palm. His daughter is one smart cookie.

Okay, so maybe he had been a little ticked off that Matt had cancelled their plans in favour of being with someone else. This Mickey, whoever the hell he is. But it's not like Matt actually chose this Mickey asshole over him. It wasn't a choice at all. Their plans were fluid; they could check out Papagayo's any time. Getting this Immortal Whatever release is a one-time deal, as nutbar as it is. But he knew Matt was a little crazy going in to this thing, didn't he? This relationship.

He's in a relationship with a twenty five year old long-haired nerd who's willing to stand outside in a raging downpour to be first to buy a video game. Which he will then, no doubt, play for the next thirty-six hours straight. 

John lets that sink in for a minute. That's the guy he's… yeah, that's the guy he's dating. There's really no other word for it. When you buy a guy popcorn at the movies and sit through some shitty musical because he really wanted to see it, that's dating. When you make somebody your goddamn world famous barbeque pork chops and your stomach hurts waiting to see if he likes them as much as you do, that's dating. When you'd rather spend hours just listening to him talk instead of doing almost anything else, well…

That's the guy he's maybe starting to fall in love with. 

And he finds, almost surprisingly, that he's really okay with that.


End file.
